Ma'am?
How do I look?
Ma'am?
Gail.
Fire.
The top half of the body is unrecognizable.
_
Does Tussauds have a waxwork of Cicero?
Uh, who, sir?
Cicero.
Roman philosopher, politician, orator.
Um, maybe in storage.
Virgil?
From Thunderbirds?
From the Aeneid.
Don't think so.
Oh, Paul McCartney. Still very popular.
Although entre nous, Linda has been vandalized twice
with a lighter.
Still a lot of bad feeling
about Yoko Ono.
Hadrian?
Not that I know of.
Well, you should.
A much misunderstood emperor.
I am his reincarnation.
Super.
Before you dismiss that comment
as the foolish meanderings of an old man,
ask yourself: who's the billionaire in the room?
Oh. Point taken.
Won't anyone answer that bloody phone?
Ah, Chace. Yes, hello.
Christ.
Are you sure?
Oh, yes, Gail.
God, poor Gail.
I said I was not to be disturbed.
It's Little Paul.
I told you I do not wish to discuss the boy.
I don't care what you wish.
You.
Get this thing off my head and get out of here.
That poor boy.
That lovely, lovely boy.
No.
This-this can't be.
You refuse to negotiate.
Then you offer some paltry sum
and you're-you're surprised by the outcome?
But why would they do this?
Th-This is not how you negotiate.
For God's sake, stop saying that.
These are people you're dealing with, human beings,
not just barrels of oil.
I understand that, of course.
But it was a business deal.
That is exactly what it was.
Money in exchange for the boy.
- Cash in, product out. - Yes.
No. It was Paul.
It was Little Paul, your grandson,
your-your flesh and blood, for the love of God.
Somebody just murdered him and...
Set fire to his body...
because of you and your business deal.
The fact that you can't see that, Paul,
is heartbreaking to me.
Oh, my God.
Paul.
He gave this to the old man.
It's from Italy.
We were all visiting some temple, Hadrian's Villa.
Came toddling out...
holding it up as proud as anything.
He worshipped Talitha
and she worshipped him.
She never could control him, Gail.
No idea how to be a mother. None.
Too busy partying.
He should've been here with me.
And Talitha.
Now I've lost them both.
I mean, what-what the fuck was he thinking?
Huh?
Offering 600 fucking dollars for the life of a little boy?
I mean, we all knew he was the meanest man on the planet,
but this... God.
Where are you going?
Paul, please don't.
My-my sister... I mean, she-she would've been my sister
if she'd lived.
Typhoid fever.
Two years before I was born.
I couldn't compare.
I mean, you can't, can you?
Try as you might.
Paul, do...
Ah...
My mother never got over it.
I was...
scant replacement for... her little baby girl.
He had a way with him, young Paul.
Fearless.
That was me, when I was his age.
Fearless.
He made me laugh.
No one does that.
Papers.
I'm so sorry, Paul.
I'm so sorry.
Ma'am, where are your children, right now?
Sorry?
Aileen, Mark.
Little Ariadne.
Where are they?
Oh.
La Fuserna.
With my friend.
Now, I beg your pardon,
but I reckon it would be best if they heard the news from you.
Yes, I'm sure you're right.
But not today.
Of course. Sure.
I can't right now.
Never have favorites.
That's the number one rule of parenting.
But he was our first.
And he looked like such an angel.
All that curly red hair.
I tried not to.
I was extra strict with him to make sure he wasn't,
but all he had to do was smile.
How could he not be favorite?
No.
The number one rule of parenting...
is to keep your child alive.
The wanderer returns.
Hello, stranger.
It's bad things,
Pauline, terrible things.
Will you help me? Please.
Come on, honey.
Pauline's gonna sort you out.
Take a minute, sweetheart.
Why not tell Pauline all about it?
I-I c-can't... I can't.
I can't.
Just... Please.
A small one, all right?
Doctor's orders.
You've been off it for ages.
Whatever. Just, please, do it.
The young man had the most engaging smile.
He asked my advice.
The rest of them only notice when I'm not there.
Oh, I'm... I'm sure that's not the case.
No, it is.
I've spent 22 years in service
to a family who don't even know my name.
He calls them all "Bullimore."
His butlers.
No matter who they really are.
And who are you, really?
If you don't mind me asking?
My name is Khan.
And what about your first name?
Jahangir.
What, like the cricketer?
You know?
Of course I bloody know.
1936,
a-a cloudless sky at Lords,
Tom Pearce,
England opener,
facing.
Jahangir Khan coming in
from the pavilion end...
...he bowls a ball,
hits a sparrow in midair.
The sparrow
spirals down into the hallowed turf,
stone dead.
Now, that's a ball, old son, that's a ruddy ball.
Do you, uh, bowl?
I was what they call a wet bob.
Oh, you're an Eton man.
For a short while.
I'm something of a disappointment to the family.
Black sheep.
Ah, well.
Join the flock, there, Jahangir.
Join the flock.
Okay.
It's time to party.
Come on!
Paul?
Look what I found!
Come on! Come on, come on, come on!
- Ooh. - Oh, God. You were always
the most gorgeous woman in the room. You know that, don't you?
I would have had to be made of stone not to fall for you.
He's so much nicer when he's off his head.
It's not funny.
It's true.
He's a murderer.
That's what he is. He is a fucking murderer.
Okay. Look.
Here's a little bit of, uh, family folklore for you.
So he had this little kid.
Um, what's-his-name, uh, my half brother Timmy. Timmy.
And Timmy had a disease, other than being born a Getty.
Some, uh, congenital heart thing.
He's dying, okay?
He's actually dying.
And he writes to the old man, who's in Europe,
you know, screwing his way through a succession of women,
making enough money to fill swimming pools,
"Daddy, I'm dying.
"Please come home.
I want to see you again before I die."
What do you think the old man does?
Sends him a letter.
"Sorry, Timmy, unable to travel.
Your loving father."
I mean, can you believe that?
And he dies.
Timmy dies without actually seeing his father again.
And does the loving father attend his own son's funeral?
What do you think, friends?
Unable to fucking travel.
And what about George?
Huh? Drove him into an early grave, that is for goddamn sure.
But this.
This time he has gone too far.
This is actual murder.
What I am gonna do for him,
I am gonna go up there,
and I am gonna tell him
what we all actually think,
and the truth will destroy him.
It will completely destroy him.
Okay, maybe not that much nicer.
- Take that thing off. - Come on.
Hey, squirt it over this way.
Hey.
Take that thing off.
Oh, what, you don't like it?
Too long for me, right?
What are you, a faggot?
Go get some pants on, now.
- Why? - Because I said so.
Who are you?
I mean, you're not my dad.
- Paul... - Hey.
Do what I told you.
Or what?
Paul...
Ah, fuck.
- Get off. - Let me see.
Go see your boyfriend.
Oh.
He never ties his laces.
If he wears shoes at all.
Paul, he never...
ties his laces. See?
The showdowns we've had about it,
the times that he's tripped over his own shoes.
It's a family joke, him and those damn laces.
I'm coming.
- No, Chace. - Hmm?
Please. Go back to your hotel.
What? I have instructions to stay with you at all times.
I'm sorry, ma'am, there could be anybody out there.
There could be paparazzi out there...
If I need you, I'll call you.
It might not...
I just need to do something on my own.
A-All right.
At least let me check it out first, ma'am.
Damn.
They are your son's, yes?
Yes.
Can I look at the body again, please?
- I don't think it's a good... - It is my right.
Show me.
- No, no, signora... - I will.
Poor boy.
Mrs. Getty! Mrs. Getty!
I'm not going away!
- Stop, okay? - I want to see him. Fifty.
- Closed. - Fifty! Fifty!
Fif... Get your hands off of me!
I will stay until he comes.
If he doesn't come, I will go to the police
and tell 'em about this place.
And you.
Hello?
If I make you smile, will you buy me a drink?
Kind of.
Un Negroni, per favore.
- Certo. - Due.
Signora.
I can still...
taste the burned flesh in my throat.
It's disgusting.
How could you do that?
I am sorry.
How dare you?
How fucking dare you?
Do you have any idea what it feels like
to think that your son's been burned to death?!
Do you?
Is it your idea of a joke, you despicable shit of a man?
Well, it's not funny.
Not to me.
Because I know.
I know it's not him.
That poor burned boy is not my son.
So you go back to your cowardly little capo,
your little boss man, and you tell him to stop
whatever game he's playing.
That boy was somebody's son.
You animals.
- Rosario! - Rosaria!
- Rosaria!
That's all, folks.
Hey, wait, wait, wait, wait...!
- No! - No, no.
No.
Primo.
Mama! Mom!
He's alive.
John, chapter 11.
- What? - Lazarus:
I am the resurrection.
He that believeth in me, though he be dead,
so he shall live. Hallelujah!
- Hi. - Um...
there's a slight change of plans, miss.
We need to make our way
- to the door now. - Really?
I find myself on company time.
If we could have a bit of privacy here.
Vaffanculo.
I do speak that much French.
Talk to me.
Paul!
- What? - Paul?
Oh, God. Paul!
He's alive!
Paul!
- Paul! - Oh, but I can't be.
I'm too old.
According to these results, you are.
Paul!
No, but I can't.
- He won't let me. - I'm sure it's not as simple as that.
It is.
You don't know him.
I need to get rid of it.
Am I correct in thinking you don't have any children?
Yes... No... Correct...
At your age, there's a good chance
this might well be your last chance to conceive.
Well, I should bloody well think so.
Perhaps you should take a few days to consider
before you take any irreversible steps.
Perhaps you should talk to Mr. Getty,
decide together.
Mm.
Ah.
- Dance? - You got lucky.
Oh, Pen, really.
Time for a smile, no?
You could have been wrong.
You should have been wrong.
But I wasn't wrong.
- Was I, Von Block? - Absolutely.
Bang on, Paul. I've got it all down for the chapter
on business negotiations.
You're such a bastard.
A bastard who is right.
Bullimore!
I might buy the Ritz.
What do you think?
Guaranteed a good tea.
Oh, splendid man.
What would I do without you?
- Thank you, sir. - Do you fish?
Oh, yes, of course you fish.
Take the day off. Go fishing.
Thank you, sir.
But before you leave, pack me a bag.
I'm going on a little trip.
Yes, sir.
Where are you going?
Rome.
I've had quite enough of this nonsense.
Want to come with me?
For the weekend.
- Visit the sites. - No, thank you.
I'm afraid I've made other plans this weekend.
Other plans?
Safe journey, though.
Here.
You must put this behind you. Eat.
I didn't know. I didn't know.
What did you think would happen to him, hmm?
We take his pocket money away?
You killed him.
No. No, I didn't.
I-I didn't shoot him.
This is not Rome.
We have nothing here,
and you promised him something.
Whether you held the gun or not,
you killed him
and the old man, too.
Grow up, cazzo.
Take responsibility!
You are lucky to be alive.
So stay alive. Eat, cazzo!
Okay.
Hey!
- Happy day, madam. - Open up!
Yes, it is.
- Good day, sir. - Fuck off, Bullimore.
Where is the old bastard, huh?
Where is he?
I assume you're referring to me.
You have been drinking.
I have.
And, no doubt, been taking drugs.
Correct again.
Well, there's no flies on the old man, Bullimore.
He can spot a loser when he sees one.
He's an expert.
It's the sp cialit de la maison.
Is there a purpose to this visit?
My purpose is to deliver my congratulations to you
in person, pater... bravo.
You have moved on from killing your sons
with your own particular brand of sadism
to killing your grandsons.
Bravo.
- But I haven't. - No.
No, no. No, of course not.
It's nothing to do with you.
It's not your idea to sit on your hands
doing fuck-all for weeks.
Not your idea to offer the princely sum
of $600 for the life of Paul, your grandson!
My beautiful baby boy.
You fuckin' murderer!
You might as well have put your hands around his throat
and throttled him dead!
Except he isn't.
Dead... I mean.
I-I don't understand.
Evidently.
Well, but...
Alive and well.
Well, I-I thought...
Do you have anything to add?
Show him out, Bullimore.
How very nice to see you, Jahangir.
Happy Sunday.
A most extraordinary thing. Two things.
The boy, Paul?
It wasn't him on the beach.
The boy's alive.
Is he? Wonderful.
But even more extraordinary,
I... have the day off.
Marvelous.
Pull up a pew.
- We're having gin fizz. - Are we?
We most certainly are.
None of your cheap muck. I got the good stuff.
Jahangir, Aunt Susie.
I've been wondering when I was going to meet you.
Darling, let's adjourn somewhere more convivial.
Park me in that bloody thing and I'll never get out.
What?
I love this one.
Do you have a minute to talk?
I have to go to work.
It won't take a moment.
Isn't the news about Paul wonderful?
Miraculous, somehow.
Actually, I've got some other news.
I don't know how it happened.
Well, obviously I do.
Paul, I'm...
I'm pregnant.
I'm sorry.
Mackenzie will sort you out.
Well, um, yes, but I...
You're in breach of contract.
I'm aware of that, but I just thought
we might perhaps...
Maybe we could renegotiate.
I have never renegotiated in my entire life.
- But this is your child, Paul. - It'd better be.
Maybe another son.
Another son.
What on earth makes you think
I would want another son, dear lady?
If you think my sons have done anything other
than disappoint me,
then you clearly have not been paying attention.
No, get rid of it... or go.
The choice is yours.
More fuel.
We need more fuel.
Oh.
Oh, thank you.
Isn't this fun?
We should live like this all the time.
Well, why not? Come and stay at my place.
Set yourself up with that market garden
you're always talking about.
Tell him, Jahangir.
I didn't know about the market garden.
- Oh, well, you know. - Come as well.
What, and leave here?
Why not? It's a terrible place.
He'd make a fantastic front-of-house man.
He would. You would.
- Really? - Absolutely.
Red bedroom's spare.
I'll buy you two a comfy new mattress
for that bed the diplomat died in.
What do you say, Jahangir?
I'm sorry, I...
I really must be getting back.
She means well.
She's just tactless.
Come on.
Come back in... please.
I'm afraid it's impossible.
Oi.
Hmm.
Nice piece.
I used one just like that in Vietnam.
- I'm-I'm not holding. - Hmm?
I don't have a...
- Show me. - Oh, that?
Oh, there's nothing to show, really, it's just a...
...a radio.
A radio.
That's all.
Yeah, that's all.
Click, click.
Click. Click.
That's about the slow and skinny of it.
We used those in Vietnam, too.
No.
Si.
Right.
Esatto.
Let's sit.
Oh, that's... that's mighty civil of you.
That's good.
May I ask a question?
Uh, yeah.
I don't guarantee an answer, but shoot.
Mr. Getty, why doesn't he pay?
Why?
That's a fair question.
$17 million, uh, is nothing for him.
Less than nothing.
The rich are not like us.
They're different.
I mean, you put the same water in
and they piss the same water out, but they are different.
They play a different game.
In 1969 the Los Angeles Rams beat the Cowboys
in the regular season.
I was on the Ho Ch Minh trail.
We get ambushed.
We called in for a couple birds.
Now, had two locals with us.
One was a tracker and the other was a translator.
And they're late to the evac site.
We've already dusted off.
They jump.
And they hang on to the treads.
Then we're airborne.
The bird starts doing one of these.
I mean, the gooks are just shooting the shit out of us.
Door gunner is a sergeant, big fella.
Know what he does?
On their hands.
When a Texas Ranger does that, you tend to let go.
They went down.
We went up.
He didn't say a word about it.
He just goes back to work.
We fly home
without incident.
Thank you very much.
So... when I think about the rich,
I think about that.
Yes.
Mr. Getty...
Mr. Getty.
He's alive.
- Mom! - Paul's alive!
He's alive!
He's okay.
Paul... he's okay.
Shall I get those funds together for you now, sir?
Hmm?
The ransom?
Oh. Get hold of Paul.
Right away.
Y-Your son, Paul, sir?
Who else would I be talking about?
Yes.
I did the difficult bit.
All he has to do is pay.
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